Erstwhile on TUB:
I've promised to many, myself included, that I will find her, safe and well, and I plan to do just that."
"That won't be necessary," said a timid voice from the doorway and the occupants of the room turned to the speaker.
Draco stood so quickly that his chair scraped loudly against the tile floor and Livy emitted a high pitched scream before falling in a dead faint, directly into the spilt bowl of batter which preluded her. Clive, having heard his wife's scream and thinking immediately that Draco had harmed her in some way, rushed up behind the scene. A brown haired girl, standing teary-eyed and rumpled from sleep in the doorway, turned around to face him and, again, Clive's complexion matched his nightshirt.
"Mina."
-
Chapter Thirteen: The Blower's Daughter
To Draco, the world seemed to stand still for a moment. There she was, as dirty and fragile-looking as ever, standing framed in the doorway and staring at her feet. The Grangers, both to his right, stood stock still and seemed not to be breathing. Clive stood unblinkingly in the center of the room, staring at his daughter as if he'd seen a ghost, while Livy slept soundly on the kitchen tile. The only movement for an excruciating minute was the slow manila train of pancake batter that made its way across the floor, stemming from the blood-like pool which acted as a halo around the unconscious woman's head.
The first sound to pierce the heavy silence was a heart-wrenching sob from Hermione as tears began to spill from her eyes. Draco's heart went out to her, and he turned his gaze to her father, expecting him to step forward and claim his daughter. Clive stood unblinkingly, rooted to his spot, and stared as if seeing a mythical creature he thought not to be in exist. Tears were leaking persistently from Hermione's lids, seeping through the fingers she held pressed over her inflamed cheeks as she trembled. Draco, unable to stand by with nothing and watch her writhe in pain, took three great strides across the ceramic flooring and clasped her frail body in his arms. Hermione made no move to absorb his comfort and allowed herself to silently wet the skin of her hands. Draco whispered to her, trying in vain to calm her trembling shoulders, but his efforts went unnoticed.
"You," said another voice and Draco lifted his eyes to view Clive Granger, who now looked livid, amber eyes ablaze with anger. "You did this, you bastard! How dare you come into my home, disillusion my wife, and bring with you some ratty tramp to pose as my daughter!" he accused, taking one step closer to the couple, and Draco took a complimentary step backward, pulling Hermione with him. She moved like a doll, void of free will.
"Sir, I beg of you..." Draco began, attempting to persuade his patron to reconsider judgment.
"Get out of my house," Clive demanded, voice low and dangerous. "Get OUT!" At the shout, Draco jumped in alarm, though Hermione remained still and silent, fingers still pressed over her eyelids. From her place on the floor, Livy stirred, and her eyes fluttered open.
"Hermione..." she whispered, as if in a trance, and Clive immediately rushed to her side. He assisted her in sitting up, and held her face to his night shirt, turning to glare at the couple in the doorway.
"Out," he repeated, but his voice was no longer furious. It was his sudden and unexpected composure that worried Draco, and he held Hermione tighter. Livy, confused as to whom her husband was addressing, turned her face to view the intertwined young people.
"Mina," she said in wonder and pushed away from her husband.
"Livy, no!" he called after her, but the batter covering her body made it easy for Livy to slip from his grasp and scramble to her feet. She immediately found herself at her daughter's side, holding Hermione to her and smoothing her hair with batter-crusted fingers.
"My Mina, my sweet baby..." she cooed softly, rocking Hermione back and forth as she buried her face into her mother's shoulder. Draco had let go of his captive the moment she was entangled in maternal arms, and stepped back to watch the scene, while keeping a wary eye directed at Clive. He made no rush to stand, doing so carefully and ignoring the cakey substance which covered his pajamas. He approached his wife, who was sobbing into the sticky locks of the unknown girl, and wrenched her away. "Clive! What are you doing? Mina, come to Mummy." Hermione reached out, but her father stepped in front of Livy, holding a hand toward his daughter to stop her.
"You stay away from her, girl," he said, eyes flashing. "You stay away from us, both of you. Get out of my sight. I never want to see you here again. You can't even imagine the damage you've inflicted on my poor wife within the last twelve hours. You're sick. I can't stand the sight of you!" Now more than distrustful of Clive, Draco approached Hermione, taking her by the arms and drawing her slowly away from the scene. Livy screamed.
"No! Mina, no! Come back! Clive, let me go; that's my baby!" she demanded, struggling against his strong grip. Hermione looked between her sobbing mother and furious father, studying their faces as tears blurred her vision. When Draco had directed her through the doorway and into the living room beyond, she dropped her head and allowed a tremor to pass through her body. He stopped then, cagey of the delicate situation.
"Hermione?" he said, as softly as to barely be heard over Livy's screams and sobs. Hermione turned toward him and buried her face in his chest.
"Go," she whispered. Draco frowned, wrapping his arms protectively around her, and disapparated from the living room after saying a few Latin words to direct his broom to follow. Hermione remained completely still and silent, for a long time even after they had successfully made it to their destination. Feeling sympathy for her and deeming it his manly duty, Draco held her until she made move to pull away. "Where are we?" she asked, as if disappointed in a surprise vacation.
"My flat," he told her, forcing half a smile. "I didn't think you'd enjoy returning to the Farmhouse. No doubt you'd receive a proper bit of attention." Hermione nodded slowly and disentangled her arms from their latch around his torso. She crossed them over her chest and allowed her knees buckle and send her onto the less than cloud-like couch which occupied the living space in which Draco had directed them. He tentatively seated himself beside her. "Anything I can do?"
"Kill me," she said seriously and a shudder enveloped her small body. "Or wake me from this nightmare." With nothing he could deem appropriate to say, Draco stayed silent. Hermione sighed. "I hate it here." He gave her a flicker of a grin.
"You've been here five minutes. Give the place a chance," he joked, but she pretended as if she hadn't heard him.
"I don't belong anywhere," she said, beginning unconsciously to rock back and forth. "My parent's prefer me dead, Harry's spent six years in a lustful agony and, from what I saw, is practically comatose at my rejection of his request to defile me. Ron wouldn't understand my feelings if I physically ripped his heart out and made him feel the same way. And the others... they're the others. I can't stand to be in the same room with any of them. You care more about Harry than you do me. I've nothing. I'm no one."
"Now wait," Draco said in his own defense, sounding frankly surprised. "That isn't fair."
"You're right," she said acidly, turning her face away from him. "It isn't. That doesn't make it untrue."
"I came all this way looking for you, didn't I? You have no idea what I did for you."
"You went looking because he wanted you to," Hermione said, glaring at the carpet. Draco sighed in frustration, running hands through his hair.
"I came despite what they wanted. Harry was in no fit state to demand anything of anyone," he said and she remained silent, shivering slightly as if uncomfortable in her own skin. "Some thanks I get."
"Thank you," she said, in a way that sounded almost akin to an apology. Draco's annoyance waned quickly at her solemn and unhesitant response, and he sighed.
"Tell me what you want, Hermione. I'll try my best to help you. I'm sorry everything's not perfect for you, but as overrated as it is, that is life." Hermione was silent for a long time, breathing evenly and staring at the carpet. Her lips stuck to one another as she parted them, dried from salty tears.
"I just want to be happy."
-x-
Draco stopped their conversation when it was punctuated by a growl from Hermione's stomach. He filled her full of wholesome food and sent her to bed to recuperate. Hermione resisted at first, claiming that she didn't need sleep, but her swollen eyes did not hesitate to fall shut the moment her head rested upon the pillow.
She slept long into the day, and somewhat into the night. Draco had wondered, then, if there might have been something physically ailing her. Hermione hadn't complained to eating nearly everything her stomach could hold, which Draco also knew was unlike her, and now was in a deep and fitful sleep, seemingly un-plagued by dreams. He had left her to her own, as not to disturb her privacy, and periodically peered through the crack in the door to make sure she was still safe and warm beneath his bedcovers.
Draco considered owling or flooing a letter to Harry, explaining that he had found Hermione and that she was in perfect health, if not a little shaken, but decided forcefully against it. He couldn't risk an unexpected appearance. Hermione was in a fragile state, and Draco feared that seeing Harry before she was completely willing to do so might result in some sort of breakdown or spontaneous and dangerous act.
Instead he waited, entertaining himself with various books and busywork tasks. After the ice box had been purged of all outdated edibles, the bathroom scented lemony fresh and shined spotless, and the four-year-old deadbolt for the front door was finally installed, Draco relaxed on the couch with a very familiar book. He had discovered it in his cloak pocket while retrieving his wand, and remembered placing it safely in his largest pocket before evacuating Hermione from her sexual hell. Strange, he noted in retrospect, that even with the anxiety of Harry's upcoming arrival hanging over his head, he had remembered to take with him the one thing (other than Hermione) that held any real value for him.
With an empty schedule and nothing to do but wait as she slept, Draco reclined on his sofa and found his marked page in the old and dusty tome, happily falling into tales of Heroic Harold and his Flaming Fields of Mesmeric Mandisa.
Hermione exited his room at about six in the evening, looking very much refreshed and contented. Draco, absorbed in his book, did not notice her until she rested her fingertips on the crown of his head, smiling softly and saying, "Hey."
"Hey. Sleep all right?" he asked, marking his book without inconveniencing her the wait of allowing him to finish a page or paragraph. Hermione nodded slowly, heaving a heavy and somewhat contented sigh. "So," he said, pausing. "What now?" She gave a crooked smile, as if accepting to the fact but not at all enjoying it.
"I have to go home."
"Home?" Draco said, surprised. "But Hermione, your father..." She shook her head quickly.
"No. Home to Harry. To my friends. Where I'm supposed to be."
-x-x-x-
Hermione approached Harry's bedroom door tentatively, trying futilely to quell her shaking fingers and biting a raw spot on her bottom lip. When she had gained the courage and felt able to continue, she stepped up to the foreboding brown slab and rapped her knuckles against it softly, out of courtesy. Harry made no sound from within and Hermione dropped her fist to the doorknob, turning it slowly and granting herself entry to the heavily silent room.
Harry was tucked into his four poster bed, which had been jammed into the corner farthest from the door. He faced the wall, blankets obscuring all but a mop of black hair on the pillow. Hermione wondered fleetingly if he were asleep and thought briefly of returning at a later time, but she dismissed the idea, believing now to be as good a time as any, and approached him quickly for fear of losing her nerve.
"Harry?" she asked softly, slowing as she approached his bed. He didn't stir. "Harry," she tried again, volume lifting only slightly. Feeling a wave of tears rise into her throat, Hermione took the necessary steps forward and crawled under the covers beside him, curling into a ball and pressing her body against his back. "I'm so sorry, Harry. God, what have I done to you?"
"Hermione?" she heard softly and the body beside her shifted position. "'sat you?" She nodded against his back, which was clothed only in a thin cotton shirt.
"It's me, Harry. I'm right here," she said, placing a hand on his side, and Harry covered it with his own palm. He took a deep breath, groggy from sleep.
"I had the most horrible dream," he mumbled sleepily, interlacing his fingers with hers and rubbing the side of her hand with his thumb.
"You did?" she asked, sounding falsely surprised and concerned. "Tell me about it."
"You were dead..." he said, an audible frown in his voice. "Or at least, I thought you were. Then you came back to me... but you ran away again. I was so sad," he sounded somewhat surprised. "I thought I'd never see you again. It hurt." Hermione bit her lip, squeezing his fingers below her own. Harry sighed somewhat contentedly. "I'm glad it was just a dream." Hermione felt a complete release of tension and kissed his back frantically through the fabric of his t-shirt.
"That's right, Harry," she said softly in attempt to soothe him. "Just a dream." Harry sighed again, then released her hand and shifted to roll over. Hermione looked up, connecting with his gaze, and was somewhat surprised to see that no trace of pain could be seen in his bright green eyes; he seemed as happy and carefree as she had ever seen him, perhaps more so.
"Where were you?" he asked curiously, smiling at her as he snaked an arm around her waist to draw her closer to him. Hermione frowned.
"... Where was I?"
"Just now," he clarified. "Before you came back to bed."
"Oh," Hermione paused, slightly nervous and left with nothing to say. "I... I was in the bathroom. That's all." Harry offered her half a smile and gave a little hum of contentment before pitching forward to kiss her softly. Hermione, overrun with feelings of guilt and pain of loss, returned his kiss with a fiery urgency that startled Harry. He returned her osculation with rivaling passion, but looked surprised as they parted.
"Hermione?" he asked hesitantly, and she shook her head.
"It doesn't matter, Harry. Nothing matters," she said, and kissed him again. "I know you can make me happy; I know you can."
-x-
Hermione, full of energy from her previous sleep and unable to rest despite her strenuous activity, disentangled herself from Harry's loving grip with intent of tending to her rumbling stomach. She stood from his berth and dressed quickly, leaving him with a kiss planted on his forehead.
As Hermione entered the kitchen, tiptoeing in the late night darkness, she was startled to find it already occupied. She sighed, placing a hand to her chest.
"Janelle, you surprised me," she admitted, shuffling across the floor and joining her nocturnal friend at the kitchen table.
"Likewise," Janelle said, glaring at her cup of tea. Hermione, who had helped herself to a tea biscuit, stopped mid-chew in confusion. Aware of her befuddlement, Janelle lifted her cold eyes to the girl across the table. "Why, Hermione? Why would you do this?" Hermione slowly placed her cookie on the table.
"Do... do what?" she asked, sounding more than guilty, and Janelle gave a cold chuckle.
"You think I don't know? God, Hermione. When you came here, I felt sorry for you. I knew you were confused and broken... and I pretended to understand how you must have felt in such a situation. I pitied you. Now, I'm revoking that. You're no more than what they made you there; a whore." Hermione gaped, mouth open.
"How dare you..."
"I'm not wrong, Hermione. I'm not. You don't care about anything but yourself. You didn't care about Harry; you didn't care that he'd been hurting too. That you were hurting him."
"That isn't fair!" Hermione hissed. "After all I'd been through, and what he did..."
"He was desperate, Hermione. He just wanted to please you, to show you what you were in his eyes."
"A sex slave?" Hermione demanded. "I think I have a right to be selfish about my own body!" Janelle dropped her eyes to her tea cup, shaking her head softly.
"You were his first and only love, Hermione. You still are. He wanted to worship you, to show you just how happy he could make you feel. He wanted to make up for everything that had happened because of him. It was never about sex. That was the only thing he could think of to do."
"How do you know? How do you claim to have any idea of what happened between us?" Hermione asked and Janelle smirked a little.
"Teige came in to get Neville; she wanted him to carry Harry into his bedroom. Why she didn't use magic, I can only guess. Nevy didn't want to leave me and I went with him, though he protested. I had a bit of a scare just after you left, you see, and he was worried about me.
"I went with him, to get Harry. He woke up pretty soon after that, and told us everything. Though, he thought it was all some dream, some nightmare. Then he said he was tired, and to send you upstairs whenever we saw you next. I'm glad you came back," Janelle admitted. "I don't know how he would have reacted if you hadn't been with him when he woke up."
"So I was scared," Hermione admitted. "So I didn't understand, and I ran. That doesn't make me a whore."
"No," Janelle admitted, shaking her head. "What you've been doing for the last few hours- that makes you a whore."
"I don't understand you!" Hermione shouted in a hush, throwing her arms up in exasperation. "First you condemn me for not sleeping with Harry... then you call me a whore because I do! What do you want from me?"
"Don't you even care what you're doing to Draco?" Janelle demanded and Hermione felt her heart sink.
"D-Draco?" she asked. "What about Draco?"
"He's in love with you, Hermione," Janelle answered, glaring softly. "Or lust, or something. Your complete disregard for his feelings is tearing him apart. I don't know what happened between you at the establishment, but he came back a changed man. He understands what's happening, but that doesn't stop it from hurting. He kept you safe there, he smuggled you out, he cared for you... and what's more, he continued on the outside. He tried to patch things between you and Harry and he went after you when you went out of your mind and ran off! He was beside himself with worry, then. He knew you couldn't take care of yourself. Not two days from captivity. He's done all this, and you've lead him on to believe you cared for him as well. That you wanted to be with him. I saw you in the fireplace the day you arrived... I know everything. You've done all this and then you went to sleep with Harry. Draco's devastated, now. He's been locked in his room since half past five." Hermione, honestly considering the words of her friend, bit her lip.
"How does he know what I've done with Harry?" she asked feebly in one last, meager attempt at defending herself. Janelle frowned and shook her head.
"Everyone knows. You might want to try a silencing charm next time," she said and Hermione blushed to the tips of her ears.
"You're right," she admitted, whispering. "I'm a horrible, horrible person. I just wanted to do the right thing. To make things better. I'm Hermione... I'm supposed to be with Harry. I've been destined to be with him since we were teenagers. So, tonight I sacrificed myself. I gave him everything, like I'm supposed to. I just want it to end. I want to be happy again. I know... I know I was happy once. With Harry."
"It's too late for a quick-fix, Hermione. You have to decide. You've either to sacrifice Harry, or deeply wound Draco. What's worse, Draco knows what you're doing. He knows you're doing what you're told, and he feels guilty for feeling betrayed by you. He'll tear himself apart. You have to decide, Hermione. No one can make the decision for you; decide who you want, and who you're willing to live without. To destroy. I know it's not an easy decision, but it has to be made. Do what you think is right." Janelle sighed. "I'm tired, and my feet are swollen, and I all this talk has, admittedly, made me ache for Nevy. I caution you to think about what I've said, Hermione. I'll see you in the morning."
Without another word, Janelle heaved herself from her chair and brought her cup to the sink, then left the kitchen to climb the stairs and return to bed with her husband. Hermione was left alone to think, now conveniently free of appetite.
-x-
Harry moaned slightly in his sleep, and rolled over, blinking one eye open.
"Herm-", he began, but was silenced as Hermione cast a powerful spell over him.
"Soporiferum," she said with conviction and, with a flick of her wrist, Harry was again lulled into a deep sleep. Now sure he would remain unconscious for a minimum of thirty minutes into the future, Hermione continued her hurried task of packing his things. She shrunk and shoved every of his articles of clothing into a suitcase, followed by her own garments borrowed from Janelle (which had been summoned from her room).
She dressed Harry haphazardly and took his hand, her other grasping the metal handle of the suitcase. Hermione prayed that she wouldn't be spliced as she apparated them into the shrieking shack, located in the deserted town of Hogsmeade. It had been memorialized for Sirius Black after his death, and was now somewhat like a museum; well furnished and spotless. It unnerved Hermione to be so close to the place which had been her home for so long, but she could think of nowhere else to safely leave Harry. She performed the sleeping spell upon him once more, and hurried to the abandoned apothecary.
"Please," she whispered, relying on her wand for light as she browsed the shelves. "Please, have a stock of lotic acid... yes! Thank you, Master Delamater!"
Equipped with lotic acid, derived from the lotus flower and a crucial ingredient in a sweet dream potion, Hermione quickly and quietly made her way back to Harry. He was asleep on a couch, just as she had left him, and she smiled at him in his slumber.
"I'm sorry about all this, Harry. I can't think of anything else to do," she said softly, smoothing the hair across his brow. Hermione pressed a kiss to the scar on his forehead, and gently placed a finger on his chin. "Open wide..." she instructed, though he most likely could not hear her, and propped open his mouth. Carefully, she dripped an incredibly large dose of exactly twenty four drops into his mouth, watching them fizzle and create little red welts along his tongue and in the back of his throat. She hesitated, then added a twenty fifth drop for good measure, and closed his jaw quickly to prevent the vapors from escaping. When sure the acid had absorbed, Hermione placed another kiss on his forehead. "I'm sorry, Harry." She said, and apparated into thin air.
-
A/N: Uncensored version can be found at http:tangledupinblue.